Greek Mavericks: At The Greek's Pleasure. Maisey Yates
“You are not my partner.”
“Whatever. Terminology aside I am agreeing to the idea of an affair. But it has to stay a secret. Can you imagine the scandal? Me. Dating my wicked stepbrother who stole my family legacy after he wormed his way into my father’s good graces.”
“Of course. I have no interest in parading my intimate association with you in front of the world. As I already said.”
His words, his tone, rankled. “I find it funny that you speak of it as though you find it distasteful. Of course I do. Everyone who moves in business circles fears you. I can see why I would want to disassociate from you. But not why you would wish to disassociate from me.”
He arched a brow. “I have a type, Elle. It is not buttoned-up redheads. As you know, gentlemen prefer blondes. Or, in my case, scoundrels prefer blondes, brunettes or redheads so long as they’re willing to part their thighs. I like women who know how to smile. Who know how to have fun. I do not like little harpies who claw at me even as they tear my clothes off.”
“You like it when I claw at you.”
Heat flared in his dark eyes and she took that as a win. “I consider this a unique circumstance.”
She wanted to ask him why he thought heat was exploding between them the way it was. She wanted to ask him if it was ever like this for him and the other women he had sex with. But that would betray her inexperience. And that was something she wasn’t willing to do. She wanted to protect her vulnerable places. Wanted to shield everything she didn’t know from him.
That was an old defense, and one that she employed daily. She hated asking for help. Hated appearing ignorant.
Her father was a hard man, and she had always had the impression that he was standing by waiting for her to disappoint him. So she never let him see when she was floundering. Never let him detect one bit of uncertainty in her. She had wrapped herself so tightly in her ironed-on exterior, so careful to never show a wrinkle. She had difficulty letting go of it under any circumstances.
And if she was determined to never let her father see her sweat that went even more for Apollo.
That meant she couldn’t ask the questions that were gnawing a hole inside of her. They would just have to go unanswered. It didn’t matter anyway. Nothing was going to come from her association with Apollo. Nothing except freedom from the bizarre hold he had over her—and her life.
She had spent far too long being preoccupied with him. She would just be glad to have it handled.
And if she was a little bit...giddy over the thought of some time to deal with the attraction...well, that was normal. People acted ridiculous when it came to sex. History was filled with examples. Wars were started over sexual desire. She could hardly expect herself to be above the kind of insanity that captured almost all of humanity.
She spent the rest of the plane ride musing about restraint and dozing on and off while Apollo continued to work. Every time she opened her eyes and looked at where he was sitting, he was maintaining the same position, his focus never broken from his laptop, or the spreadsheets in front of him.
It was strange, watching him from across the darkened cabin. He had changed so much in the past few years. The lines on his face becoming more pronounced, as though each year had left a mark behind, evidence of the living he’d done.
And as a teenager, he had never worn a suit. He had always kept his hair slightly longer back then, too. Now it was cropped ruthlessly short, as though he was trying to look like he had sprung out of the ground a very conservative billionaire.
She wanted to find that boy again. Strip off the layers and layers he’d put over the person he’d been. The one she had... Well, the one she had felt so many things for.
She let her eyes flutter closed again, and when she opened them, they had landed in Greece. Customs and passports and the like were handled in an efficient manner involving people coming to them and apologizing for any delays. After that, they were ushered into a limousine, all their bags packed quickly into the trunk as they departed straight from the plane to the highway.
Athens was an incredible sprawl she hadn’t accurately pictured in her mind. The rolling hills were capped with white, not from snow, but from the stone houses packed tightly together, flowing along with the landscape.
The downtown wasn’t anything like the glass-and-steel jungle of Manhattan. Ancient structures mixed with more modern buildings, the history and heritage of the nation evident in the intricate stonework, the massive pillars and marketplaces scattered throughout.
“Where are we going?”
“I have a villa just outside the city.”
“Of course you do,” she said. “But I thought we were going to your offices?”
“We will. At some point. But some adjustments have been made to accommodate some of our new goals.”
“Meaning what?” she asked, tearing her eyes away from the scenery to look at him.
“I don’t think it’s that difficult to guess.”
They drove out of the city, winding up the steep, packed hillsides. They escaped the sprawl, moving to an area where trees were more plentiful. Where houses were a little bit less common. Until they reached the top of a completely vacant hill that overlooked the sea. There, behind a secure set of wrought-iron gates was a white stone house that was even more imposing than the St. James family estate in upstate New York.
“Is this your primary residence now?”
He lifted his shoulder. “As much as any place, I suppose. It is my home, after all.”
“I do know that. You were born here. You left here when you were eight.”
His focus sharpened. “Have you been reading unauthorized biographies?”
“No,” she said. “I just paid attention when you used to speak around the dinner table. I used to know you, Apollo, as difficult as it is to remember back that far.”
An emotion she couldn’t put a name to flashed through his eyes. “I did not realize such memories were worth saving.”
“Know your enemy, and all of that.”
“I suppose so.”
The limousine pulled closer to the house, and the driver put the car into Park. Elle opened up her own door, stepping out and looking up at the house. To her, it looked like a lot of cubes of varying sizes stacked on top of each other, large windows on all sides looking out at the hills behind them, and the ocean before them.
“It doesn’t seem like you’re afforded very much privacy,” she said.
“Are you concerned that the village will see you naked? Because make no mistake, most of the time spent in this house will be spent without clothes.”
The dark, sensual promise should have frightened her, offended her. Instead, it excited her.
“The thought crossed my mind,” she said. No point in playing the prude now. Not when he knew full well she wasn’t.
“Never fear. I can tint the windows at the flick of a switch, and we won’t even have to sacrifice the view. But good to know you are on the same page as I am.”
“I have great concern for my modesty.” And her sanity.
“Well, I hope you don’t concern yourself much with it in my presence.” He walked ahead of her, moving to the front of the house. “Our things will be brought in momentarily. Come, let me show you around.”
She followed him inside, her heart hammering, her mouth suddenly dry. She didn’t know what might happen next. If he was going to strip her of her clothing immediately and press her up against a wall again. And if he did, what would she do? She would capitulate. She knew that from experience.
But he didn’t make a